


For Enemies

by raiyana



Series: The Dwelf series [35]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Baby Durins, Blue Mountains | Ered Luin, Gen, Moral Lessons, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 12:08:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17121083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiyana/pseuds/raiyana
Summary: Written for Tolkien Secret Santa 2018.To raise a good Dwarf.





	For Enemies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theimaginesyouneveraskedfor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor/gifts).



> Nominally belongs to the Dwelf-series.  
> Written for @theimaginesyouneveraskedfor on tumblr.  
> Inspired by two quotes which appear in the fic:  
> “That's ridiculous. The only point in having enemies is so you can defeat them, kill them, brush them aside."
> 
> "Or give them a chance to redeem themselves.”  
> ― Derek Landy, Death Bringer 
> 
> “I'd rather have an enemy who admits that they hate me, than a friend who secretly puts me down.”  
> ― Karen Salmansohn

“You shouldn’t fight so with the mason’s son, Fíli,” Dís sighed, dabbing the latest split eyebrow with a clean cloth and applying one of Óin’s healing salves. “I don’t want to keep hearing about you two fighting in Dwalin’s classes – those weapons won’t _stay_ blunted forever, galmith – it’s time to make peace.”

Thorin snorted.

“That’s ridiculous, nana’,” he muttered darkly, “the only point in having enemies is to defeat them, brush them aside – kill them, perhaps.”

Dís knew he was thinking of far grander conflicts than boyhood squabbles, but she still glared pointedly at his dark head. Thorin wisely turned his attention back to the edge of Deathless, giving the sword a few more passes with his whet-stone.

“ _Or give them a chance to redeem themselves._ ” Dís replied pointedly, satisfied by the light redness appearing in his ears and the way his eyes flickered guiltily towards Dwalin.

“I'd rather have an enemy who admits that they hate me, than a friend who secretly puts me down!” Thorin argued hotly, even if they both knew she was right. Thorin glared at her, arms crossed over his chest and his most mulish expression on his face.

“Fighting among ourselves will do us no good, nadad!” Dís took a step back, glaring at her brother. “I’m not saying they have to become _best friends_ , Thorin,” she hissed, “but I should like _my son_ to grow up to be a King who does not start wars over the smallest of slights!”

“ _Children!_ ” Frís’ usually mild voice thundered through the small kitchen. Both brother and sister startled, giving her guilty looks and feeling about a century younger than their current ages. “I should hope we might at least have peace within _our home_ if not our people,” the Dowager Queen sighed, resting a hand on the back of Thorin’s chair.

“Yes, Amad,” they chorused. On the table, Fíli grinned at his sigin’amad, who returned the smile with a soft grin.

“This does not mean your amad is not right, wee Fíli,” Frís added sternly, “fighting with the mason’s boy like that is not something my grandson should do, you hear me?”

The little boy nodded, melting the sternness in an instant when he hopped off the table, running over for a hug. “Likewise, your uncle has a point, too; it is always better to know who is your true friend – and who your enemies are.”

“Kíli is my friend!” Fíli declared, making the toddler look up with a grin at the sound of his name, and wave at his older brother.

The three adults laughed.

“You’re quite right, galmith,” Dís said, bending to press a kiss against his small forehead. Fíli scrunched up his face but he hugged her in return nonetheless. “And Kíli will always be beside you… but that does not mean you don’t have to treat other people well.”

“Yes, Amad,” he acquiesced.

“Will you try not to fight with Bori anymore?” Dís asked gently, cupping his small face. Fíli nodded sagely.

“But what if _he_ wants to fight _me_?” he asked suddenly, scrunching up his face in thought.

“Then you punch him out and go home,” Thorin offered, giving his sister a grin. Dís’ cheeks heated.

“That’s _not_ funny, Thorin!” she hissed.

“It really was, nana’,” he grinned back, completely unrepentant, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone managing to shut up Branka that effectively before – or since!” Laughing, he put aside the whet-stone and polish, giving Frís a kiss on the cheek before he walked out the door, whistling a jaunty tune.

Dís growled in her throat, dearly wishing she had had time to punch _him_ , even if the smile that stole across her face next had more than an air of smugness. Brank had deserved to get knocked down a peg or five and Dís felt little remorse for being the one to do it. Sighing, she ruffled Fíli’s golden curls gently and followed her brother to the market, leaving the two dwarflings with Frís.


End file.
